


How Would You Describe Mr Gatsby's Parties?

by beautreebean



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: also instead of sleeping, chapter 3 different perspective, comment what his name should be i feel bad i didnt give him one, honestly i wrote this for an english assignment, servant pov after a party, the servant rlly couldnt give a shit about gatsby but he wants to keep his job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22377250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautreebean/pseuds/beautreebean
Summary: Just a little thing I wrote for my English work but it's from a servant's perspective on the party in chapter 3 :)
Kudos: 4





	How Would You Describe Mr Gatsby's Parties?

**Author's Note:**

> okay, my dudes, this is just a mini 400 word or so thing I wrote for my English work and honestly I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out ^_^ i didnt give the servant a name tho so please message me one or comment it:)) i wanted to make the servant seem sassier but it didnt quite fit,,,,, butttttt i might write another one hehehehhe  
>  thank u for reading :))

“How would you usually describe Mr Gatsby’s parties?” asked the reporter. I didn’t usually like to speak to them, but he had been kind and helped me take in the lemons and the oranges. My friends, who were also servants, gave him peculiar looks as he followed me in. Perhaps they thought he was a guest arriving early, although he wasn’t particularly dressed for the occasion. Most of the party-goers were flamboyant, in bright purples, rich greens and ocean blues, fitted blazers and ties, flowing dresses and wavy hair. He had a grey suit on, and a cheap set of pens in his left-hand pocket. A little notepad stuck awkwardly out of the trouser pocket, waiting to be scribbled on.

I told him about the masses of people who come here, most uninvited but welcome all the same. I told him of the ridiculous things they request, pastry pigs with no meat, ham with less spice, every single type of gin they’ve heard of! And I have to serve them, Gatsby doesn’t like the feeling of people’s unhappiness. I don’t tell him that I think most of the guests are greedy, or that sometimes I doubt that Gatsby is in his right mind throwing these lavish multicoloured gatherings for people he doesn’t know.

There was a gypsy lady who came last night, a bright yellow and orange dress on; I saw her twice. Once when she came through the door and another when she grabbed a liquor from my tray and gulped the excited red liquid down without a care in the world.

“And anything different from Mr Gatsby’s other parties? The readers want something unordinary.” He smirked, and he wore a hopeful smile, yet somewhat fake. The sheer fact that Gatsby’s parties where becoming the norm, the ordinary shocked me.

“There was a strange little man actually.” I replied, remembering the nervous-looking guy from last night. “He was puzzled, he was asking for Gatsby apparently.” I shrugged. “I only saw him from afar though.”

He messily wrote that down, thanked me for my time, and left.


End file.
